Somewhere Between
by Area Rule
Summary: Once upon a time, Riley, a girl of twelve, thought moving to a new city was the most frightening thing she had experienced. Now she's not so sure.
1. 6 AM

_**Somewhere Between**_

* * *

 _ **One: 6 AM**_

The alarm clock was going off. Riley was already aware that something was wrong before she snapped her head up, discovering herself slouched over the table. The very next thing she discovered was her unfinished homework. Then the desklamp still being on. Then the daylight on the walls. It was a horrifying, horrifying moment.

Fear was first awake. He tumbled off the sofa and found himself on the cold, hard floor. Taking a moment to gauge his surroundings he went straight into panic mode.

"No, no, no!" he cried out.

Springing to his feet he made a beeline across the room to his companion, Joy, who herself was in a similar position as Riley, slouched over the Console, but on the way struck the floor again, back first, squealing with panic as he fell. Some of the scattered Memory Orbs he had stumbled over went flying, bouncing around like oversized colored ping pong balls.

What an awful morning.

Joy stirred and blissfully muttered something having to do with pizza.

Fear made it to the Console, still rubbing his back, and after a moment tried to shake her awake, only for her to wave a hand at him dismissively and moan, "Don't worry, no broccoli this time…"

So he took matters into his own hands. Pulling up a chair of his own he picked a switch on the control panel and threw it. Then another. And another. _What would Joy do?_

For a long moment Riley stared blankly at her desk, wondering how she could be so stupid. It took her that long to regain the presence of mind to reach for her mobile phone and shut the alarm off. At least it was quiet. Whatever fulfillment she had from her five-odd hours of sleep was lost in this pile of homework she was now sifting through. Panic set in slowly while it became apparent how much trouble she was in. The time was _6:03._

Joy regained her senses finally. The first thing she asked was, "Wait, what's going on?" Then, "are… are we finished?"

Eyes darting to and fro between Joy and the big screen that showed them what Riley saw, Fear frantically tried to get it across that it had happened again, but the words didn't form coherently so he gave up and let Joy see for herself instead. He didn't have the heart.

Joy took one look and it came together. Then she was all business. "It can't be much further now. Come on, let's get working."

"Joy," Fear said at last. "This was a bad idea…"

Joy was too busy to take heed. Her fingers worked the keyboard swiftly, familiarly, as she focused on warming Riley up.

A new, disappointed voice chimed in. "You have got to be joking. Please don't tell me you fell asleep on Riley's homework again…"

Fear straightened his back and narrowed his eyes, staring straight ahead. "No," he said, sarcastically. "We didn't…"

Disgust, always appreciative, exhaled, "Of course…"

Descending the winding walkway down from their living quarters, she went and picked up a Memory from the floor, a golden one with Joy's touch, examined the image it held inside, and announced, "Well, looks like there's your excuse. 'We had hockey practice.'"

Fear crossed his arms. "Yeah, good luck with that…"

Joy promptly came up and snatched the globe from Disgust's hands. "It was for morale," was her explanation. Disgust hummed dubiously while Joy was looking over the Memory, making certain that its color remained unchanged; no trace of Disgust and her signature green.

In the globe was a playback of a hockey puck at the end of a stick zigzagging back and forth in between a line of cones.

"…And how much did we drool on ourselves? Our face is so icky…"

Joy ditched what she was doing and ran back to the Console, where Disgust had officially begun her workday.

Riley scrunched her cheeks and touched her fingers to them.

"Fear! Don't do that. It's gross!" scolded Disgust.

"Well it _is_ our saliva," replied Fear.

Moving past him, Disgust said, "Joy, we need to wash off."

"Let's answer this question here first."

" _Where_ is your self respect, Joy?"

Joy threw her arms in the air. " _Okay._ Fine. We'll freshen up first. But I'll need you to help me sort out the mess later, got it?"

"Sure. Whatever you say."

* * *

Riley peeled herself away from the desk and crossed the corridor to the bathroom. Breakfast was cooking downstairs; bacon and pancakes, accompanied, as always, by the scent of coffee. Disgust detested bacon, complaining, perpetually, about "oil and carbs". Nor did she appreciate when Dad used his affectionate nickname for Riley when she came trampling down the stairs in her pajamas.

"Morning, Monkey!" He was already dressed up in a shirt and tie, glancing up briefly from the mobile phone in his hands while he waited at the table. Disgust curled her nose.

"Morning, hon," said Mom, perched above the stove. "Come have a seat."

Riley, who might have been in a hurry to find a chair, stopped dead in her tracks for a moment when Mom pitched her next question:

"Sleep well?"

It was a question Riley already hated.

Anger and Sadness had come into work while Riley was grooming herself. They saw the mess that Joy was in the process of cleaning and came to their own conclusions. Sadness was quiet about it. Anger, not so much, shrugging Joy off when she tried to tell them good morning.

"Don't _good morning_ me! You let it happen again, did you? The queen of poor time management right here, everybody! I am tellin' ya!" He threw his meaty arms in the air for effect.

It was Sadness who suggested being up front with Mom and Dad, and not for the first time. Sadness, who twiddled her fingers diffidently when eyes landed on her. As expected, Joy hated the idea. After all, they'd been through this before hadn't they? There was no need, Joy rationalized, to make it a bigger problem than it already was.

Riley was already cringing on the inside as she tried to answer Mom's question.

"Yeah… you could say that."

Mom said nothing, sharing a glance with Dad as the girl found her seat and started shoveling food onto her plate.

A deep tremble ran through the floor as the foundations of a distant Island of Personality were violated.

" _Which Island was that?"_ Joy demanded. She remembered something like this. They all did. "Tell me, quick! Somebody!"

Being the closest, Disgust set aside what she was doing and ran to the observation windows, pressing her fingers to the glass. Her answer was expected.

"Honesty. It was Honesty."

Joy came beside Disgust moments later, her hands practically slamming into the glass panes. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that it was still standing tall. Sadness soon joined them. After a moment, Joy broke away from the windows, faced again with the mess that was their work area.

"Well?" asked the green skinned one, facing Joy's backside. "What now?"

Joy didn't turn around. "We have to finish breakfast. Fast."

In an effort to be reassuring, she added, "We have this under control." At that, her colleagues looked at one another incredulously, and not for the first time in history.

It was Disgust who spoke up. "Under control…" she elaborated, panning her hands out. "Joy, you do realize that we're only half finished, right?"

" _Fifty-five_ percent finished!" Joy protested. Elsewhere, unseen by them, Anger scoffed and shook his head behind a newspaper.

"Class starts in an hour and we _still_ have to get ready!" Disgust shot back.

" _Be careful, Riley! You might choke!"_

It was Mom. Each of the Emotions tore their heads to at the screen, where Riley's parents were staring. It might have been comical, how her fork with a chunk of pancake just froze in midair while she returned the stare awkwardly. Finally, Riley dropped both hands on the table and blurted defensively, "Thirty minutes! I… I only need thirty minutes!"

It was at this point Disgust's agitation blew through.

" _Fear!"_

Fear's hands came flying off the Console like it was a hot stove. He grinned nervously in her direction before scooting backwards. Disgust, seeing Riley's plight, turned her attention back to Joy.

" _How_ could you let it come to this?"

When Mom did speak, it was for the benefit of the doubt if nothing else. There were no illusions.

" _Riley, I thought you were finished!"_

"I have like, one subject left!" said Riley. Eyes flew to the windows as Honesty Island trembled again. Joy, with one hand clasped on the other arm, appeared hurt. Fear was reeling, knowing that he had responsibility for this. He always let Joy talk him into taking that ten, fifteen minute break because they " _just finished Computer Fundamentals and had earned it"_. Now here they were.

Sadness pleaded quietly. "Joy…"

Dad cleared his throat. Suddenly breakfast wasn't as appealing. "Riley," he said. "You had the weekend. This isn't acceptable."

A newspaper ruffled. Anger was getting excited. "Unacceptable, hmm? Would you like to see 'unacceptable'?"

His eyes traced across the smooth, glassy floor the path he took toward the Console. Leather shoes clicked menacingly. At the side, his massive arms swayed, the rolled up newspaper in one hand. Suddenly all was quiet, each of the Emotions resigned to what was about to happen. That was, except for Fear, who impishly raised both hands up in front of him.

"Anger, what are you doing? Anger, _please_ think this over!"

Anger may have been half Fear's height but the fact was that he was much more massive, brushing his tall, lanky colleague aside like a feather in spite of Fear's protests.

Anger stopped at the control panel and loosened his tie. Unaware, apparently, of the rest of his colleagues watching wordlessly, he seemed to speak directly to Dad, raising one finger at the screen while the other hand was winding up. The air above his head sweltered like charcoal.

"Hey, I have an idea! Why don't you…" He slammed a fist down on the control panel. Keys, levers, and any other loose objects rattled from the force.

" _Screw_ _the hell_ _off!"_

Riley's chair scooted backwards. Her parents were as stunned as her emotions were. It was only when she was halfway up the stairs Dad found his tongue again.

"Where do you think you're going? We aren't finished here, young lady!"

Not that it made much of a difference. They heard the door slam. Mom looked at Dad with eyebrows raised as if to say, " _good going!"_

Dad rubbed the back of his neck, sighing dejectedly

* * *

Up in Riley's room, the news wasn't getting any happier. When Disgust finally challenged Anger the response was that he had "saved our asses", adding, "You'll thank me later." Leaning back, he casually returned to reading his newsprint, whose headline conspicuously said, 'GROUNDED?' with smaller stories such as 'HOMEWORK "55% COMPLETE", SAY EXPERTS'. With nothing more to offer, Disgust went back to Joy.

"Now we have more time to finish," rationalized Joy, always the opportunist. "Sadness, help Disgust sort that stuff out!"

Sadness, who had been gazing at the screen furtively, said nothing. She spared Joy a quick glance before doing as she was told. "And _don't_ touch the hockey ones!" Joy reminded them both. " _Fear!_ I need a damage report! How much further?"

Fear was far from thrilled, reaching up towards his temples. "Well, we're grounded, and they're gonna pull us off the team, and we're going to be out of school _and_ be out of shape…"

Joy gave him a couple of taps on the shoulder to snap him into focus. "None of those things are going to happen," she tried to tell him. On the screen was algebra, which had to do with probability and included a Sudoku puzzle because this teacher liked giving those out.

"Well," Fear said to Joy. "We're half done with Social Studies and haven't even started with Science yet… A-and we can't _pretend_ to know how to do these, Joy." Fear gestured his hands towards the Sudoku puzzle, the icing on the Algebra cake. _Saturday Sudoku,_ it was called. It was also full of eraser marks.

Joy reassured him that they'd deal with Algebra later. In the meantime they would handle Social Studies and Biology, where the answers were either memorized or in plain text. Riley started with Social Studies, flipping to the page where she left off. She hastily glossed over the words as she hunted for answers.

Joy called to Disgust. They needed social studies related material. Disgust happily obliged, after obnoxiously pretending to sort through memories from the hockey rink and then song lyrics from a recent Broadway musical. She tossed the necessary items across the room while Joy scrambled to catch them all. One by one, Fear read off the questions out loud. Riley did not need direct input from the Emotions to answer most of them. Objective pieces of information differed from Memories and were handled differently. Despite being preoccupied, Disgust would chirp in when she felt that she could phrase the answer in a "more meaningful" way. Joy would oblige with chagrin, tapping her fingers impatiently.

Riley had taken up the practice of doing the harder subjects first and working towards the ones she found easier. This meant that she should have been finished with Algebra. However, Riley could not find time arrange a meet up with the fellow classmate she relied on for help, and chat boxes and phone calls were hardly conducive to discussing math. At least that was what she told herself. Social Studies, on the other hand, was one of Riley's stronger subjects. Memorization was something she was good at.

When Riley did have to consult the textbook, Fear would tug Joy's arm to let her know when they were going "too fast" and thus more likely to miss something important. He knew how to work quickly without abandoning caution, which was what Joy needed. That was, when he managed to set his worries aside, which wasn't often. However, when he did find that spot, she refrained from arguing with him.

Somewhere along the line, Riley lost track of time. Every blank filled and sentence completed was a small amount of weight off her shoulders. She hated the uncertainty. She hated the idea that a second wasted separated her from a failing grade. Passively, she berated herself for not thinking this way sooner. At least her parents were generously giving her space and time, and for that Riley was thankful. More than once she had to refrain from checking the time on her phone. The walls grew brighter.

Dad came knocking, which jolted Fear, in turn jolting Riley, while they were invested in what was now her Science homework. Joy stumbled slightly, and some of the armload of Memories she was hauling to the Projector toppled to her feet. This slowed her down, having to pace forward carefully so as to avoid tripping over. _Shoot,_ she thought.

" _Riley! Are you finished?"_

The time was _7:10._


	2. Monday

_Note: Sorry!_ _It's incredibly hard to sit down and commit to a story. Anyway, I'm done sitting on this. For like ten minutes. P.S. Chapter One has since been updated. Well, enjoy!_

* * *

 _ **Two: Monday**_

One of the most recent developments in the Mind Realm was Science Island, the result of an unintended collaboration between Fear and Disgust. Science Island was the one of the more recent additions to the dozen Islands of Personality that were perched at the edges of what was called the Memory Dump, a vast, darkened chasm where faded Memories and other disused features of Riley's mind were sent to perish. Each Island represented a different aspect of Riley's life, and each one had a story- a Core Memory that fueled it. Core Memories were a rarity among the thousands of colored globes that the Emotions produced, both consciously and unconsciously, over the years: _super important_ times in Riley's life, as Joy might describe them.

Riley had carried a passing fascination with all things science as far back as grade one when she heard for the first time that men had at one time walked on the moon. It only became serious recently, one day in seventh grade biology when dissecting a frog became a Core Memory, courtesy of Disgust and Fear. They still shuddered thinking of it, and Dream Productions liked to bring it up from time to time.

It was the one subject that Riley looked forward to, if she had one. Unlike most of her other subjects, she found science to be engaging and stimulating, and worked quickly and purposefully with none of the meandering that happened so frequently with Algebra, or even any of the "easy" rote subjects such as history or Language Arts. Riley might have actually enjoyed it too if she wasn't in such a hurry. By 7:10, when Dad came, Riley was nearly finished with science and her left wrist was sore. At this time, Dad asked how much work Riley had left, and she had no choice left but to be honest. She was on the third to last question in Biology, but Algebra was still very much undone, including the Sudoku puzzle, where her efforts at filling up spaces had proven fruitless.

Riley was in trouble with her parents, no doubt about it, but it struck her how casually they sidelined those issues in the face of the mess that she had walked into herself. Her first class, Language Arts, started at 7:45, the drive to school would take four minutes, and Riley would need a bare minimum of two to get her clothes on and her materials together. Ordinarily, Riley would walk. Today, Dad was to drop her off before continuing to his job. If she was quick, Riley might have a chance at a full meal from the school cafeteria. _Might._

It was almost as if Mom and Dad were complicit, though Riley did not expect much help from them anyway. Being the grown ups that they were, they consistently failed to remember anything helpful from the eighth grade. Even the math they did remember was different, and that didn't make anymore sense to Riley than it did to either of her parents. However, and very serendipitously, Mom was sufficiently familiar with Sudoku that ten minutes was enough for her to fill up nearly all of the grid squares, in the process erasing most of the answers Riley had tried to offer.

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? I could have helped you out, you know."

Both Joy and Disgust pursed their lips, mimicked by their host. Mom was right.

Before going away to sort through his own matters, Dad hung around for a minute, leaning against the door frame while Mom tried and failed to explain the techniques to Riley.

What did happen was Mom doing most of the work. Riley simply followed her dictations, only glad that this headache of a puzzle was finally getting done. She did begin to catch on, slowly and steadily, as the puzzle filled up, leaving fewer possibilities. _Only two blanks left in this column. Now what number goes here? Do you see it in any of the rows?_ Much to Riley's chagrin, Mom was confident enough to have Riley solve the last five remaining grid squares on her own.

There were three left when Dad came back. It was _7:30._ "We have to go, now." he said.

When Riley replied with only a dismissive, "M-hmm…" running her brain at full power to finish off the puzzle, Mom said, "You can finish it in the car, honey," and the chagrined girl complied. Mom promised that she would sit down with Riley to properly teach her Sudoku when they had time. This had to mean after school, Riley thought to herself, since she was almost certainly grounded.

During the short drive that felt longer than four minutes, few words exchanged between Riley and Dad except for warning her of speed bumps and when they were near the campus. The whole way, Riley had the algebra textbook open in her lap, having carried it under her arm to the car instead of packing it away in haste like everything else. Tucked in the pages was her messy answer sheet, and she was running on all cylinders trying to make sense of it in the time she had left. When the nausea that comes with trying to read in a moving vehicle encroached, Riley glanced outside to ward it off. It was during one of these times something clicked in her head and her eyes widened. The pencil leapt into action, fighting to remain steady, until suddenly the car slowed to a stop.

"We're here," Dad announced.

" _I know,"_ Riley snapped. She unbuckled but stayed seated while rushing a solution. When she did disembark, she practically slammed the door behind her.

"Guys, was that really necessary?" Fear asked no one in particular. He received an answer from nobody in particular. All was quiet as the girl drew her phone to check the time, and then broke into a run. It was _7:38._ No breakfast. Riley had missed the cutoff time. Instead she went straight to the classroom. She got there pretending not to catch her breath and casually made her way to her seat, or so she hoped, while most everyone else was already settled into their own routines

* * *

The Train of Thought signaled its arrival with a blow of a whistle as it approached Headquarters, no less than half an hour late. Anger was usually the one to receive deliveries and today was no exception. He kept his nonexistent nose in his newsprint while the materials were rolled out of one of the carriages and onto the platform in wooden crates.

"Sorry," the conductor apologized to the indifferent recipient. "Bad forecast. Honesty Island."

The route was a perilous one. Due to the location of Headquarters, the last stretch of track would always take the Train of Thought over the Memory Dump. There had been one event in the past where an entire shipment was lost due to an Island of Personality toppling and taking a section of elevated track with it. Incidentally the collapsing Island that time had been a previous incarnation of Honesty. Riley had never been anything short of truthful with parents and teachers growing up, even in situations that spelled trouble for her. Now, on the onset of her teenage years, nobody knew what had happened, but honesty no longer came nearly as easily. Certainly not as easily as it had that evening a year ago when Riley shamefully drew from one sweater pocket, and placed on the table, the credit card she had stolen from Mom's purse.

Anger didn't blame the Mind Workers whose job it was to bring the Trains of Thought in day after day after day. Their precautions for preventing a similar disruption from occurring in the future were understandable to him. The same could not be said for Joy's leadership decisions. As far as he was concerned, what was happening now was her fault and what had happened a year ago had _also_ been her fault. _Partially_ her fault, perhaps, but her fault nonetheless. _She_ was the one with an ego problem.

Anger rolled up the paper under his arm as he signed the manifest. Daydreams. Facts. Opinions. It was all there, what Joy had ordered. He was carting the crates into Headquarters while the rail carriages pulled away on tracks that materialized out of thin air and then vanished back into thin air after the train passed. The workings of this world were of neither his concern nor his contemplation.

He came inside again in time to hear Fear declare, "three more to go."

"Good," said Joy. "Now let's put it away. Teacher's due any minute now."

"See?" Anger crossed his arms, savoring the sight of Joy using the opportunities given to her, courtesy of himself. "Saved our asses."

"Please…" chided Disgust, still working with Sadness. She considered their task 90% complete. The floor was much tidier now. Most of the items were neatly stacked into pyramids- Joy's Memories, meanwhile, were scattered densely in a far corner. "Mom and dad were going to send us up anyway."

" _After_ wasting more precious time." countered Anger.

"Doesn't matter," Joy cut in, not taking her eyes away from the monitor. "We're here now and grounded either way."

"Gee," said Disgust. "I wonder why that is."

For a change, Anger grunted approval. He wheeled the cart up to Disgust and Sadness, leaving them with much more stuff to sort through which set them back at least fifteen percent. It was Disgust's turn to cross her arms. She frowned starkly.

"Fear, the hour," said Joy.

The reply was immediate. "Seven forty-five."

The door swung open. The woman who walked in was in her late twenties and had her dark curly hair tied up. She was handling her lessons for the day in both hands with her own copy of the book they were reading stacked on the top, an installment from a young adult series set in a southern California high school whose students, through some misfortune or another, became intimately familiar with touchy subjects such as poverty and substance abuse _._

" _Good morning, class…"_ she began. " _How has your weekend been?"_ The cheerful demeanor she valiantly carried into the classroom could probably be attributed to the coffee flask hanging from one hand. _At least she's trying,_ Disgust's remark echoed off the walls of Headquarters.

* * *

One of the great serendipities of Riley's life was that Algebra wasn't until after lunch. As it stood, she needed all the time available to cover her tracks. She made a show of paying attention to the teachers while searching for opportunities she would have to get work done. Meanwhile, Riley received the A+ from last week's science test with pride. The moment of celebration was quickly trumped by Disgust wondering out loud why Riley couldn't seem to put the same effort into her other subjects.

Lunchtime was supposed to be a time to relax and enjoy whatever reheated disaster the school was serving. Today, it was Algebra hour. Algebra twenty minutes, anyway. The girl found a table where the student sitting there appeared to be preoccupied with the same sort problem as Riley, only for Riley to discover on closer inspection that he was actually _practicing math_. _What a dork._ How many people actually did that?

A familiar voice chimed in, approaching from behind. "Is that Friday's homework…?"

Riley didn't look up. She sensed the boy across the table look in her direction briefly.

"Hey, Viv." she retorted with dryness, not looking up.

"Of all times to call," the dark haired, bespectacled girl set down her lunch tray on the foldable table. "Why did it have to be last night? I told you, I was up in Vallejo with family. Don't you know that I have nephews?" Sighing, she promptly sat herself down left of Riley. "Nephews that I already have to babysit?"

"Well, I had hockey practice!" Riley finally looked up, already knowing how her friend would respond.

"And I had piano practice." The friend paused to tear her milk carton open, inserting the straw. "Whatever. Just let me see your work."

"Here," Riley slid the ruled answer sheet over. Hands free now, she tore open the aluminum foil leading to her lasagna. More students joined them along the table, two of them chattering boisterously as they sat across from each other, one beside the dark haired girl who double-checked her friend's homework. Whatever they were on about had something to do with video game characters. Both girls ignored them. These two were always on about video game characters.

The closer one burst into laughter- and sneezed milk all over. Riley and Vivian flinched. The others around the table stared for a moment, including the one who had been practicing math. Another student wordlessly offered a napkin to the boy who was still getting a hold on his coughing fit, one hand over his mouth.

Riley's lips parted in horror. Here was her answer sheet, now with chocolate milk splattered on it. It took a moment for her to register that the boy across the table was smirking. She wanted to reach across and wipe it right off but knew better. _Maybe he's nervous,_ said a voice in her head. _He has to be nervous._

"I'm s…" said the closer boy, in between coughs. "I'm so…"

"He's sorry." said the other one, needlessly.

"Oh no, it's fine…" said Vivian, speaking for both herself and her friend. "Are you, are you okay?"

Easy for her to say. Her homework wasn't ruined.

The boy was using the napkin on his face now. "Are you sure it's fine?"

It was not fine, but Riley didn't say that, exhaling out of her nose instead. Well, at least the sudoku puzzle was unharmed, right?

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to the teacher."

Vivian handed it back, waving it in the air lightly. As Riley got a good look at it, her face must have betrayed how she really felt. Still, it was better to play it off than to get pointlessly upset. _You got yourself into this,_ she thought to herself. _You and no one else._ Lunch was quiet afterwards except for the two boys, who were right back at it within the minute.

"Gosh, that's a bummer," Vivian whispered as she quietly scooted closer to Riley and away from the boy. She did not have to say that there had been little for Riley to worry about before the wet brown splotches appeared across her answer sheet. She looked on with a mixture of admiration and pity as Riley continued to work, and show her work, doing her best to avoid the stained parts. Vivian didn't finish her lunch, having lost her appetite, but stuck around until Riley finished the last question. In the meantime, Vivian checked the Sudoku puzzle.

"Did you even _need_ my help?" Vivian asked, handing both papers back. The two girls were the last ones at the table. She looked at Riley, then at the soiled answer sheet Riley stared at forlornly.

"You think he'll grade that?"

"It's worth a try…" Riley sighed. She had given it all the time she had to dry off, but you couldn't ignore the brown dots that looked perversely like an arts and crafts project. _It couldn't have been plain milk!_


End file.
